I’ve never been much of one for fate. I’m English, so growing up in a small village, a fete to me was something we had in the summer, where the daft neighbour from three doors down (not those of Here Without You) won a ham that had mysteriously appeared as a prize, then you noticed on your walk to school on Monday that the farm was down one pig.
I kid.
Fate’s a fickle friend, and not something I’ve ever put much stock in. Maybe being born with a disability makes you like that, I dunno. Maybe I’m just a northern cynic. Maybe I’m just miserable. Maybe all of the above. But whenever anyone tells me something’s ‘meant to be’, I’ve usually rolled my eyes and looked the other way. Like astrology, spare ribs and Game Of Thrones, the enthusiasm is a thing I’ll never understand. Then, this year, the 49ers put together their best team in my 18 years watching the NFL (see more on that here), they came back twice in the playoffs, and now, on my birthday, on the date I publish this article, they’re playing for the Super Bowl against a team they definitely owe one to. The wait has been long, the week has been a nightmare (one lovely Harry Potter tour visit aside), and the words of a New Order song, natives of my now-hometown, ring around my ears.
Heaven knows, it’s got to be this time…
Does it? Fuck knows, honestly. I’ve sat down for every Super Bowl since 2005, and of all of them, this may be the hardest to call. I don’t feel certain we’ll win, like I did in 2013 against the Ravens, nor hopeful but certain we’re underdogs, as in 2020 versus those very same Chiefs. There’s no overwhelming favourite like Seattle versus Denver. There’s no obvious monolith like the Patriots holding up one side (although the Chiefs are verging on that boring, oh-fuck-they’re-in-the-playoffs-just-give-them-the-trophy territory at this point). There’s no unpredictable upstart like the Bengals. There’s no underdog like the Nick Foles Eagles. This is just simply two great teams colliding in the biggest game of the season.
Fuck the noise, fuck the Swifties and the alpha-males who hate them so much for reasons that can only be confined to their lack of penis size, this is football at it’s finest. I’ve read elsewhere that it’s a ‘boring’ matchup – only if excellence is boring. I mean no disrespect to any of the teams that lost along the way, but the idea of a grit-and-grind Lions versus the Ravens defense in a 17 point epic would put me to sleep faster than a sleeping pill from Courtney Love’s doctor. This is two great offenses, two good defenses, two great coaches, and one prize at the end. This is proper football.
So, you probably all want to know the big answer – Cranky’s a known 49ers fan, can we win it or not? The answer’s simple – turn up for all four quarters, and yes, I think the Niners nick it. Play half a game, like they did in the two games leading up? It’ll be over quickly, and not in a good way.
But fuck it, I believe. For all the 4ams. For all the playoff losses, for the Super Bowl losses, for the transatlantic trips, for the Deebo Samuel MVP runs, for the Brock Purdy discourse, for sticking around through Jim Tomsula, Chip Kelly, Brian Hoyer, CJ Beathard, and Nick Mullens. It’s got to be this time. Hasn’t it?
As always, if you read and enjoy, or you read and hate it, please let me know via comment, tweet or email.